Present
by ornamental-reciprocity
Summary: Bearing the powers of your ancestors sometimes means bearing the repercussions. Oneshot.


"I brought you a present."

He stood in the doorway, cradling in his hands a necklace. She had to admit that it was beautiful. The chain was silver and long, and at the center rested a pendant of opal. Zelda watched it out of the corner of her eyes, unsure how to react. So she remained still, perched on her bed, her back to him.

He walked behind her and silently wrapped the treasure around her neck, savoring the feeling of the tenseness in her shoulders. She always tensed up when he touched her, a combination of hate and helplessness. That feeling was part of the reason that he found excuses to come closer. He loved to watch her hate him.

This was the third present he had brought her. She hadn't wanted any of them, but she didn't know how to refuse. Not without angering him. She hadn't yet worked up her courage to make him angry.

The first present was a dress. It was fine silk, embroidered, beautiful, and outdated. No one had worn a dress this ornate in hundreds of years. It was too heavy to be comfortable, too tight to allow much movement. Yet, he had insisted, and so she wore it.

He came back the next day, and sat beside her.

"You've done it wrong," he told her casually.

"Done what wrong, Vaati?" When she spoke her voice sounded empty. Something was gone.

"The dress. You didn't lace it properly."

"Forgive me," she answered, trying to inject as much venom as possible into her words. "I didn't realize you were an expert on ladies clothing."

She could hear him smile, even though she didn't look at his face. "You would be surprised. Not that you could be expected to know this sort of thing. You never did. Always had maids to help you."

She thought to herself that she had never had any maids. She had never worn clothes like this before. But the words would be lost on him. His mind was made up.

"Well then," he told her, "I will get you maids. So you will look your part, hmm?" He left without waiting for her response. She didn't want any maids, but it seemed that her opinions didn't matter, not anymore.

Three days later, he escorted two women into the room. They were small and seemed scared. Zelda pitied them. She didn't want to know the methods of persuasion which had brought them here. She tried to give them a few comforting words, but to no avail. They couldn't speak her language, or indeed, any language she was familiar with. Apparently, only he could communicate with them.

She thought that it was cruel, in a way. To dangle before her the hope of civilized, decent company, only to snatch it away with something as simple as a language barrier.

Their job was to dress her, and they did it well. They knew where the laces went, apparently to the sorcerer's satisfaction. They even brushed her hair into an elaborate style which she had only seen in ancient portraits. It was unusual, Zelda thought, as she watched herself in the mirror, to think that the reflection she saw no longer looked anything like her.

By the time that he brought the necklace, she thought that she had figured it all out. When he had placed the necklace on her and made to leave, she stopped him.

"Why do you do this?" she inquired quietly. He smiled at her, in a mock offended gesture.

"Do you not like your present, princess?"

"Did you love her, or something?" she asked, without meeting his eyes.

He blinked in surprise. "Love who?"

"Her. The one who came before me. The princess of legend." He sat back down beside her and reached out to touch her face. Just moments before his fingers made contact, she spun her head around. His hand missed entirely as her eyes met his.

"Why do you ask?" he inquired, caught off guard by her sudden willingness to look at him. She had avoided his eyes for weeks now.

Now, she smiled for the first time. "You thought I missed it, didn't you? But you've tried to tell me facts about myself that aren't true. You've weaved stories about my life that never happened. I've never had maids. I've never been a princess, not the way you think of it. You've told me the story of her life, as though it was my own. You've even dressed me like her. You want me to be her, don't you?"

He paused for a moment, curious as to how she had figured it out, but not the least bit surprised. The other Zelda had been quite astute, too. "No," he told her honestly. "I didn't love her. I wanted her, yes, but never love. I simply don't like it when I am denied the things I want."

Zelda smiled bitterly. "And if you had gotten her?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you hadn't been stopped then, if you had gotten exactly what you wanted, what would you have done?"

He leaned back a little, to give the illusion that he was thinking about it. In truth, he knew the answer before he started. If he had won, then she would have been nothing but another prize. A spoil of war. No more. It was the very fact that he couldn't have her that tormented him, that drove him to actions like this.

Finally, after a pause, he admitted, "I don't think I would have kept her long."

Zelda breathed in a little as she let the words sink in. "You know, the irony's kind of appalling."

He didn't bother questioning her, simply raised his eyebrows a little. She sighed.

"What I mean is, you want revenge on her. No matter what, you keep seeking that same revenge. I am not her. I can never be her. But that won't stop you trying. Whatever other ridiculous fantasies you will try to play out, I won't be her. So you'll keep me. You'll keep me around because no matter how long I'm here, I will never be able to fulfill the craving you have for her blood. It's because you hate her, and me, so much, that I'm safe. You will try to hurt me, yes, but you will never kill me, never get rid of me. I'm safe." When the words came out of her mouth, she was amazed at how confident she sounded. Perhaps a little taste of power was all she needed.

He blinked in surprise, stunned at how easily this girl had just dissected all of his motives. The words caught in his throat before he regained his composure. "If that's true, then you understand that it's in your best interest to keep my ideas alive. The longer I'm entertaining my 'ridiculous fantasies', as you call them, the longer you stay safe.

"You want me to act the part?"

"I want you to act the part," he confirmed, reaching out once again to stroke her cheek. This time she did not resist or turn away. She simply looked at him.

"How, exactly, do you want me to act? I never met the girl."

"Don't worry," he told her, "I can teach you everything there is to know about her. There will be plenty of time to learn. Do we have an accord?"

She nodded her assent and he backed away from her. "Until later, then," he told her, and she smiled fearfully.

As he shut the door she couldn't help but wonder a little at the agreement she had just made. Was it surrender, to pretend to give in? Even if both parties knew it was a lie? Regardless, she thought, there was no time to think about it. It was act or die.

She straightened the necklace so that the pendant sat right above her heart. With a straight back and head held high, she stood up. It was all very planned. Deliberate. Regal.


End file.
